


Landing In Hysteria

by Anonymous



Series: Entropy [2]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Heavy Angst, Malcolm Bright Gets a Hug, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, Non-Consensual Touching, Panic Attacks, Papa Gil, Past Rape/Non-con, Platonic Cuddling, Protective Gil Arroyo, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, brief appearances made by JT and Dani, lots of hugs, well a very hopeful ending at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:40:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28423326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: After that horrific undercover went so horribly wrong, Malcolm just wants to forget it ever happened.  The fact that there's video proof of it on the dark web makes that difficult, especially when a witness on another case happens to have seen it.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright
Series: Entropy [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2081829
Comments: 8
Kudos: 52
Collections: anonymous





	Landing In Hysteria

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SomeRainMustFall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeRainMustFall/gifts).



> The first one in this series must be read in order for this to make any sense at all.
> 
> All of the legal stuff in this fic is done using the laws of my state, which is not New York. I know that NY's laws and penalties are a bit different than my state, but it was all way too confusing to figure out, so I just stuck with what I know. Unless you work in law, I doubt you'll mind. If you do work in law, I guess I'm sorry lol
> 
> Enjoy!

If there was one thing Malcolm was good at, it was repressing trauma. He'd only been doing it since he was ten years old. Just because this new trauma had nothing to do with his father and was far more recent than his finding of the girl in the box didn't make a difference. Trauma was trauma, and as long as Malcolm forced himself to ignore it, he would be fine. He would act like nothing had ever happened, like that undercover hadn't gone so horribly wrong and he hadn't been raped and it hadn't been filmed and spread to a paying audience on the dark web for people to watch again and again and again and-.

Malcolm took a deep breath. He rolled his head around his shoulders and tried to relax his tense muscles. He was fine. It was true, they hadn't found any leads as to who may have seen the video, what account their money was going to, or even how many people had paid to watch it, but Malcolm was fine. He was always fine. Jenkins had been forced to plead guilty. With the video evidence, there wasn't a defense attorney on the planet who would take him to court. A plea deal was all he had. Jenkins would be spending the rest of his life in prison for first degree criminal sexual contact. Because of the plea deal, he wouldn't be charged with the other rapes or the murders, and the taping of the act was only used as an aggravating factor, not a separate charge. It wasn't exactly justice, but that was the nature of plea deals. They were a necessary evil. Besides, even if Jenkins were to have been charged with all of his other crimes, his sentence would be the same. He was already in prison for life. What more could be done to him? The death penalty had been outlawed in New York years and years earlier. The result for Jenkins was the same, even if the process to get there more or less ignored the three women he'd raped and murdered. It was the best that Malcolm was going to get. He had to be okay with it, even though there was nothing that could be done about the video. It was on the dark web for anyone to pay to watch. It wasn't going anywhere, and there was nothing that the NYPD could do to track down who was watching it, or who they were paying. Malcolm just had to live with it and move on.

At first, it had been nearly impossible. Everyone at the sixteenth knew exactly what had been done to him - many of them had even seen the video themselves in preparation for presenting the case to the DA. Some of them stared at him while he was around during the plea bargaining, others wouldn't even glance his direction. No one knew how to act around him, not even his own team or family, although they did try harder than anyone else to be normal. Malcolm appreciated their efforts, but Gil was the only one who Malcolm truly felt comfortable with anymore. He knew things really would get back to normal with time, but in the waiting, things were different, and Malcolm hated it.

Of course, he had been forced to take time off after giving his statement, just like he had after Watkins, but it didn't help. Gil stayed with him for a while, after it happened, but Malcolm had eventually insisted that he was fine and he didn't need Gil to be right there every single moment. Once the man had essentially moved back to his own house, things got worse again, but it hadn't been anything that Malcolm couldn't handle on his own, just like he'd been handling the rest of his trauma for the previous twenty years. But in order to ignore his trauma, he needed to have a distraction. He needed to get back to work. He needed a case.

JT was the first one to stop him as he walked into the squad room. "Bro, what are you doing here?" he gently asked him with a sad smile. "You shouldn't be back yet."

"Anything fun going on? Someone's been poisoned? Killed with an umbrella? Suffocated with a bouquet of flowers? I'll take anything, really," Malcolm replied, ignoring JT's very accurate remarks.

Dani stepped out of Gil's office and gave him that same sad smile that JT did, only hers hid a guilt that Malcolm wasn't sure would ever go away, no matter how many times he tried to tell her that what happened hadn't been her fault. She walked over to JT and beckoned him to follow her.

"I'll see you later, okay?" she said to Malcolm. He nodded wordlessly in response. JT muttered something under his breath, but Malcolm didn't care to try to pick it out.

"Kid, what are you doing?" Gil asked him from the doorway.

"I need a case, Gil, I need something to do, something to keep me out of my head, so I can stop thinking about it for just one minute," he pleaded, staring up at Gil. He didn't need to explain what "it" was. Gil already knew. Everyone already knew. "Just bring me up to speed on your case and give me one lead to run down, just one, Gil, please," he begged. "I need this."

Gil sighed, running a hand over his goatee as he shook his head. "Come on in," he said, motioning towards his office. Malcolm walked in with a thankful smile, and took a seat at the chair in front of Gil's desk. Gil followed and sat behind it. "It's not a very complex or interesting case, not something we would've called you in for anyway." He leaned over the desk to hand Malcolm the file.

Malcolm quickly flipped through it, and had to agree with Gil. It was a pretty basic case of gang violence, without much to form a unique profile. The only unique thing about it was the location. There wasn't usually much gang violence in that area of the city.

"Dani and JT are on their way to talk to the gang units and see what they have on the vic, and at some point they need to go back over to the witness's house and get a better statement. The man was drunk when he called it in, so we held off getting his statement," Gil explained.

"Let me go get it," Malcolm immediately suggested, perking up. "It would be a great way to ease myself back into working again. I'll even go home afterwards, I just need something, Gil, please." He stared up at the older man, pleading with his eyes for him to say yes.

"I can't go with you, I have a meeting with the brass that I've already been putting off for far too long," Gil said with a shake of his head. That wasn't a dismissal of Malcolm's request.

"I can do it by myself," he replied. "It's just taking a statement, a rookie could do it. I just need something, just for a little bit. You know how much I hate being trapped in my head," he said, finishing with a small shrug and a shake of his head. Malcolm broke off eye contact and turned away. He was fine. Everything was fine.

Gil sighed heavily, but in a way that told Malcolm he'd won. "Alright, fine, you can go get his statement, but then you have to go home. You said you would, and I'm holding you to that," Gil said, trying his best to look stern.

"Thank you," Malcolm breathed out like a sigh of relief. He got up and rushed to the door of the office.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Malcolm stopped in his tracks and turned around, looking at Gil quizzically. "The address?"

"Oh, yeah, right, I need that," Malcolm said, rushing back over to the file on Gil's desk. He flipped through it and snapped a picture of the address where the shooting took place.

"Granger is the guy you're looking for," Gil said. "It happened on the street right in front of his house." He looked up at Malcolm, disapproval clearly written on his face. He didn't want Malcolm to go.

"I'll be fine," Malcolm insisted. He was always fine.

"Shoot me a text when you get back home, please," Gil requested as he finally turned back to his paperwork and emails.

Malcolm nodded in the affirmative, then left the office. He dutifully ignored anyone and everyone who looked at him as he exited the precinct, breathing a sigh of relief when he was finally safe in a cab, with a driver who had no idea what he'd been through. Malcolm rattled off the address and relaxed as the cab took him through the beautiful city, finally stopping not too far from Malcolm's childhood home. The upper east side was generally pretty free from gang violence, but bad things could happen anywhere. The address wasn't in the wealthiest part of the east side, but the people living there definitely did have some money to their names.

After paying the driver and telling him not to wait up, Malcolm tapped the recorder on his phone on. Writing reports was easier when he had an exact transcript. He slipped his phone back into his pocket, trotted up the steps of the address in question, and rang the doorbell, a slight smile on his face. It felt good to be doing something work related. The smile on the man who answered the door was even larger, and the way he looked Malcolm up and down was intensely unsettling. But Malcolm was just overreacting because of what he'd been through. Everything was fine.

"I'm Malcolm Bright, with the NYPD. I just need to get your statement from the incident that occurred a few nights ago," Malcolm said, pointing back over his shoulder towards the street where a man had been shot.

"Oh yeah, I was pretty drunk that night," Granger answered, that smile not leaving his face.

"I am aware. That's why we've waited to get your statement," he explained. "So if you could just tell me what you saw, what you heard, that would be great."

Granger shrugged. "I heard some raised voices, but I don't know what they were saying. I didn't see anything until I heard the gunshot, then I peeked out. One guy was lying in the street, another guy was running away. He was too far away and it was too dark to know what he looked like. Both voices sounded male to me, that's all I've got, really. If I heard or saw anything else, I was too drunk to remember it." Malcolm had figured as much, but it never hurt to confirm. "You know what I was busy doing, when I was so rudely interrupted by the shooting?" Granger asked him, his eyes once again traveling up and down Malcolm's body in a way that made Malcolm fight not to squirm. It was too much like Jenkins, like the way he'd looked at him.

"Drinking," Malcolm answered. If that was all Granger had for him, then Malcolm really didn't want to waste any more time.

"I was watching you, pretty boy," Granger said, his smile turning darker. Malcolm's brows furrowed in confusion, but Granger wasn't done. "I've been watching that video ever since it was first livestreamed, almost every day. Your screams are music to my ears."

Granger chuckled, but Malcolm felt the blood draining from his face. It felt like he was about to be sick as the realization as to what Granger was talking about hit him. He'd seen the video. He'd watched Malcolm get raped and he'd watched it again and again. Malcolm opened his mouth to say something, but words wouldn't come out. He couldn't even move.

"You've got such a pretty mouth," Granger said. "Bet those pretty pink lips would look even better wrapped around my cock." Malcolm felt tears building in his eyes as shame flooded his entire being. This random witness to a random crime had seen Malcolm at the worst moment of his life. The man had paid to see him suffer. How many other people had seen it? "Aww, what's the matter, baby? Are you gonna cry and scream for me like you did for him? You beg so pretty. Even in that suit, you're still so beautiful. And that ass..." he trailed off, and Malcolm flinched at the sudden feeling of hands on him, on his ass, squeezing.

Malcolm was shaking as the first tear fell, but he still couldn't move, or even say a word. Why couldn't he get himself to just move? Deep in the back of Malcolm's mind, he knew it was a natural fear response that occurred sometimes, but he'd never experienced it before himself. He hated it.

"I've dreamed about you ever since I saw him fucking you, and it looks like today is my lucky day. Can't wait to tear these clothes off you, to fuck you like the bitch you are. Maybe I'll keep you, tie you up on my bed to fuck whenever I want, make some home videos of my own and make you my own personal whore."

Malcolm flinched again at Granger's words, and another tear fell, but he still couldn't move. He couldn't stop shaking, but he couldn't get his legs to cooperate and just run.

"Come on, pretty thing. In time I bet you'll even learn to like it," Granger said. He reached out again and grabbed Malcolm by the arm, and pulled.

The motion of being pulled inside the house was enough to finally break Malcolm out of his fear induced paralysis. He reared back, breaking the loose grip that Granger had on him, and bolted, the sound of Granger's laughter echoing behind him. Malcolm ran faster than he'd ever run before. He didn't look back, he barely even looked forward, he just ran and ran and ran. There were tears streaming down his face and people were staring as he passed them, but Malcolm didn't care. He just kept on running.

Malcolm ran until his legs gave out and he tumbled to the ground. Years of training and muscle memory took hold, turning his fall into a shoulder roll, but Malcolm didn't hop back up. He scurried back until he hit a building, then stood just enough to dash into the alleyway, behind a dumpster, away from prying eyes. A few people had been staring, but Malcolm couldn't take that, he couldn't have people looking at him, watching him, touching him-.

Malcolm couldn't breathe. He needed to breathe, he needed Gil. Where was Gil? Gil was always there when he needed him, so where was he?

Hands still shaking, Malcolm pulled his phone out of his coat pocket and tapped away from the recorder and onto his speed dial. He tapped on the first number that came up - Gil. As he always did, Gil picked up on the first ring.

"Hey, kid, can I call you back? I'm in a meeting."

"Gil- I can't- I can't breathe," he managed to get out through his hyperventilating. He was going to pass out if he didn't manage to calm down. "I need you, please-," he broke off, trying to focus on getting his breathing back under control. Malcolm was crying so hard he could barely take in any air.

"Malcolm? What happened? Where are you? What's going on?"

"He knew- he saw it- he wanted-," he broke off again, unable to get to horrifying truth out.

"I'm gonna come get you, but I need to know where you are."

"I don't- I d-don't know," Malcolm sobbed. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his free arm around them, making himself as small as possible. "I just kept running."

"That's okay, I can have them trace your phone, just don't hang up, okay? I'm on my way to get you right now. It's gonna be okay, kid, I'm coming to get you."

"Okay," Malcolm answered through his sobs. He listened as Gil got his location from TARU and ran out to the LeMans. Gil kept up a steady stream of reassurances as he sped past all the other cars, siren blaring.

A foreign voice cut through Malcolm's sobs and Gil's reassurances. "Are you okay?" Malcolm bolted up, seeing a mountain of a man through the haze of his tears. He was wearing a dirty apron, likely an employee of the restaurant Malcolm was taking refuge behind. But the man was huge, and looked far too similar to Jenkins. The man stepped closer, and Malcolm held out his hands to defend himself, dropping his phone.

"No! Leave me alone!" he shouted. "Don't touch me! I can't do it again, please, don't make me, don't make me, don't make me." Malcolm collapsed back into sobs, his breathing coming in quick gasps once again, as darkness began to encroach on the edge of his vision. Where was Gil?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Malcolm? Malcolm?" Gil cursed as the sounds of his kid's sobs got further away and paired with the telltale clatter of the phone falling to the ground. He kept speeding through traffic, thankful for the siren and light on the LeMans helping to clear the way. Gil still didn't know what was going on, what he was walking into. He had no idea what to expect. All he knew was that his kid was scared and needed him. The brass had been pissed that he'd left the meeting so suddenly, and he was sure to catch hell for it later, but nothing was more important than Malcolm. Gil never should've let the kid go in the first place. He should've put his foot down and insisted that Malcolm needed to just go home, or at least wait until after Gil's meeting so he could go with him. Whatever had happened, Gil was sure that it would've been better if he'd been with the kid.

In what felt like an eternity later, Gil finally came to the location that TARU had provided to him. He pulled the LeMans up onto the curb and dashed out, his hand on his gun, ready to draw. There was no obvious sign of anything being wrong, but that didn't mean that things were all well and good.

His ears attuned to the sounds of his kid, Gil picked up on the sobs coming from the alleyway next to the restaurant. He bolted around the corner, only slowing down when he saw a large man standing a few feet away from the dumpster, his hands raised as if in surrender.

"Hey, I'm sorry, man," the employee said, but he wasn't talking to Gil.

"Get the hell away from him," Gil barked out, fury in his eyes. The man stepped back even further, and Gil felt bad for a fraction of a second. The man probably was truly just trying to help. Gil moved around the dumpster, and found Malcolm. The poor kid was curled up in a fetal position, arms raised out as if to defend himself from a threat. He was sobbing and shaking like had been that terrible day. "Hey, hey, it's okay," Gil said, the fury vanishing from his voice, replaced with nothing but gentleness and safety. "I'm here now, it's alright. You're okay." He held his hands out, waiting to touch Malcolm until the kid saw him first and said it was okay.

Slowly, Malcolm turned his head and opened his eyes. The kid visibly relaxed upon seeing that it was Gil, then threw himself into Gil's arms, clutching onto his coat with everything he had as he continued to sob.

"Shhhhhh, it's okay now. You're okay. I'm right here. I'm right here," he gently said. Gil let one hand run up and down Malcolm's back while the other found its way into his hair, gently massaging his scalp in calming ministrations. He dared a glance over to the restaurant employee, who had stepped back further, but hadn't left. "Bring him some water, but set it over there," he ordered, motioning with his head towards the dumpster. Hopefully the man would get the idea and stay out of Malcolm's field of view, but set the water close enough that it wouldn't take much for Gil to grab it. The man nodded, and left.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Malcolm repeated, his grip on Gil not loosening.

"You don't have anything to apologize for," Gil said, even though he had no idea what Malcolm was talking about. He was sure that whatever had happened, it hadn't been the kid's fault.

After a few more minutes, Malcolm's cries eased up, and he took in several deep, shuddering breaths.

"That's it, you're okay," Gil said, not pausing in his ministrations. He only stopped when Malcolm moved back - back, but not away. The kid leaned back against the bricks of the building, instead of forward onto Gil, but kept a grip on Gil's arm. His hand was still shaking. Sensing that Malcolm still wanted him near but wanted to be sitting up by himself, Gil moved himself to the bricks, and wrapped and arm around Malcolm's shoulders. He pulled the kid in closer, and Malcolm immediately rested his head on Gil's shoulder, and lightly clutched Gil's sweater with a hand resting over his heart. Gil leaned forward slightly to grab the cup of water that had been dutifully left by the employee, and held it out to Malcolm, who took it wordlessly.

For the next several minutes, the two of them sat there, as Malcolm took small sips of the water and got his breathing back down to normal. His face was stained with tears, and his hair was windblown and messy.

"Do you wanna tell me what happened?" Gil gently asked. They were in the same vicinity of the address that he had sent Malcolm to, but well over a mile away.

Malcolm took in another shuddering breath, then spoke in a voice so low that Gil almost had to strain to hear it. "Granger didn't see much that night, but he saw the video." He paused, and clutched Gil even tighter. "Gil, he saw the video. He paid to watch what happened to me." Malcolm's voice broke as he spoke, tears threatening to overtake him once again. Gil's heart stopped, but Malcolm continued on. "He told me how pretty I looked, and he started touching me, and Gil, I couldn't- I couldn't move, I was so scared. And he told me what he wanted to do to me, he called me a bitch and a whore and he said that he was gonna tie me up and keep me and then he grabbed my arm and started to pull me inside and I finally just started to run, and I kept running and running and I- I didn't-." He broke off as sobs overtook him once again. Gil held on to him a little tighter as the kid shook even harder.

"It's okay, it's over, you're alright, you got away," Gil said, pulling Malcolm a little closer and resuming his calming ministrations. He needed to stay calm and serene for Malcolm, but on the inside, Gil's blood was boiling. How dare anyone speak to Malcolm in that way? How dare Granger think he could get away with threatening him, admitting such crimes to a police consultant? Gil was going to make sure that Granger was put away for a long time. There had to be a way to get a warrant to search his computer. The word a police consultant wasn't worth as much as the word of a cop, but Gil still hoped he could get a judge who owed him a favor to sign off on that alone. If he couldn't, Gil didn't know what he'd do. He couldn't arrest someone on a he-said-she-said basis. "I'm so proud of you," Gil finally continued. "You ran and you got away to somewhere safe and you called me, and I am so proud of you." He took a moment to breathe a sigh of relief that his kid was physically unharmed. After what Jenkins did to him, Gil had been so scared that he was going to lose the kid forever. But Malcolm had been coming back to himself, and Gil had been so proud of the progress he'd been making. He couldn't lose that because of Granger. "You're gonna be okay. I'm right here, and you're gonna be okay," he repeated.

Slowly, Malcolm reached for his discarded phone and handed it to Gil. "It has his statement on it," Malcolm quietly said, almost in a whisper. Gil took a gentle hold of it, and noticed that it was still audio recording. It didn't just have Granger's statement about the gang shooting, it had every single disgusting thing he'd said to Malcolm. Given the current situation, that was the best possible scenario.

"He's going away for this, for everything we can get on him," Gil said. Based on Malcolm's description of the exchange, there was a good chance that Gil was going to be able to charge Granger with fourth degree CSC, but Gil needed more. There needed to be more that Gil could take him down with, to make sure that he was never able to touch Malcolm again.

Gil felt Malcolm nod against his chest as his took in another shuddering breath. Clearly Malcolm knew what had to happen, and it broke Gil's heart. Other people were going to have to listen to the recording. Gil was going to have to listen to it. People would know that it had happened. He held onto Malcolm a little bit tighter.

"Let me take you home," Gil gently said. After a moment, Malcolm nodded, and allowed Gil to help him to stand. The kid kept his head down as Gil wrapped an arm around his shoulders and led him out to the LeMans. He remained silent on the drive back to his loft, and collapsed into a ball on his couch the moment they got back. First, Gil put a blanket over him, then went to the kitchen to make the kid's favorite comfort food.

"You don't have to stay," Malcolm muttered, barely loud enough for Gil to hear him, but Gil did in fact hear him.

"What was that? I can't hear you over how amazing this grilled cheese is gonna be," he fibbed. There was no way he was leaving the kid.

A few minutes later, the food was done, and Gil brought it over to him. Malcolm was still curled up under the blanket, staring at the wall with blank eyes, but he sat up when Gil placed the food right in front of him. Malcolm moved closer to Gil, practically snuggling into his side, and took a few half-hearted bites of the sandwich. As usual, Gil had only made him half a sandwich, hoping that the smaller portion would entice him to eat more.

Gil tapped the remote and pulled up the TV. "What do you want to watch? Indiana Jones? Finding Nemo? Real Housewives of Miami, or wherever the hell they live?" Malcolm gave a small chuckle, but didn't otherwise respond. "Indiana Jones it is then," Gil decided for them. He was going to do everything he could to keep up some semblance or normalcy. That was often what helped Malcolm the most. He wasn't going to let the kid fall back to where he had been after Jenkins.

Gil blew off the rest of the day of work. He didn't even text JT and Dani to tell them that he was home with Malcolm until the kid had fallen asleep. He would explain what happened later, but he knew that his team would accept the answer for the necessity that it was. It was halfway into the movie that Malcolm's body, exhausted from the day's events, forced him to sleep. Malcolm fell asleep on Gil's shoulder, hand once again clutching Gil's sweater. As gently as he could, Gil adjusted Malcolm until the kid was more or less lying down in his arms. He wouldn't relinquish the contact, but he would try to keep the kid in a position where he would actually sleep for a few hours rather than twenty minutes.

It worked. Malcolm slept in his arms throughout the rest of the first movie, finally waking at the end of the second. And still, Gil didn't leave. He stayed with Malcolm for almost as long as he had after Jenkins. The kid hadn't fallen all the way back to square one, more like square two, but Gil was going to be there with him through it all, just like he had been with Jenkins.

When it came time for Gil to listen to the recording, he threw up. The disgusting things that Granger said were going to be forever ingrained in his mind, right alongside the memory of Jenkins violating his kid. But Gil would listen to the recording a hundred times it meant he could take the man down.

And Granger did go down. Hard. A judge signed off on a warrant, and Granger's computer was seized. They found enough incriminating evidence on his hard drives to put him away for three lifetimes. The man had been shocked to find out that Malcolm had recorded all of it, but kept his mouth shut. There was enough on him already without him making more derogatory remarks and making things worse for himself.

It took almost as long it had after Jenkins, but eventually, Malcolm came back to them in the same way. He started smiling again, and cracking jokes, and begging for a case to work. He saw Dr. Le Deux a lot more often, and his father less, and his team most of all. It was a long time before Malcolm was ever alone again. Someone was always right there with him, with a warm smile and a cup of coffee and a listening ear. Gil reminded him every day how proud of him he was, but he never beamed with pride more than the day that Malcolm arrested his first killer since getting back to work. His kid was a fighter. No matter all of the trauma that he endured, he came out swinging. Malcolm was learning to trust his team - his family - and they always made sure that he knew he wasn't alone.

"How are you doing, kid, really?" Gil asked when Malcolm came into the precinct a month later.

Malcolm looked up at him and smiled, his eyes big and blue and not filled with tears or pain. "I'm gonna be just fine," he said. That was Malcolm's typical response, but this time, Gil believed him.


End file.
